Silence Divine
by Dr. Wednesday
Summary: Those bred and raised for war often times struggle to survive in times of peace. As the world of Myth slowly comes apart at the seams, one would be forgiven for asking if it really should be saved at all. (Set after BOO with altered history of events)
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

 _I need you to listen to me, there isn't much time left_

Percy clutched the sheets with white knuckles, the cloth slick with sweat and vomit. Percy felt bile rising at the back of his throat, his pale expression contorting with disgust. _What was he doing? What had driven him to this poin-_

The sound of a wine bottle shattering as it struck the ground ripped him from his stupor. He sat up, dragging the back of his hand across his sweat-coated forehead, the action causing the two other wine bottles to clink as they bumped into each other within the entangled sheets. _Oh god,_ Percy thought, mortified, as he looked at the mostly empty bottles. He looked around, taking in the dank, messy room.

He clumsily fumbled for the switch of the lamp sitting on his bedside table. The light burned his eyes, and he quickly shielded them. As his eyes adjusted, they returned to the bedside table. He studied the clock face. 2 o' clock, PM. He got to his feet, almost immediately stumbling and doubling over. His throat _burned_ , the putrid-smelling vomit spewing forth. His eyes watered as he clutched his stomach. He hacked and cough, disgusted once more. 2 o' clock. 2 o' clock.

 _The feast._ It was today. _He had forgotten the feast._

* * *

The hall was crowded, people wandering to and fro amongst tables filled with goblets, plates and all manner of delectable foods. But the most eye-catching feature was the head table. Large, with 8 seats. Seven for The Seven. With the traditional throne for Reyna, the current Praetor. The other Praetor, Frank, needed no extra chair as part of The Seven.

A feast to honor the anniversary of Gaea's defeat. He had missed a feast in honor of himself. Percy struggled to comprehend the fact that it had already been a year as he made his way to the only empty seat at the large table. At first glance, Percy's dignified aura of power would have dissuaded any thoughts of what he had done in the past twenty-four hours. But if one were to look closer, at his uneasy pace or his messily worn toga, well…

Percy sat, positioned between Annabeth and Reyna, and ignored the people giving him pointed looks.

"Percy!" Annabeth said, her hushed voice full of annoyance, "Where have you been?!"

"I- "Percy faltered. Annabeth had continued to look out for him, despite their splitting, but she was still a sore wound. He looked away.

"Percy, don't ignore m- "

"I've been training, Annabeth. Okay?" He retorted.

Annabeth opened her mouth to respond, but paused. She sniffed the air. She looked down and Percy's hands, clammy and sweaty. Then her eyes shifted to his toga, hastily and messily tied. "You've been drinking again." She said, deadly calm.

"No, I haven't."

"Percy, please. I need you to talk to me."

"I haven't been drinking Annabeth!" He replied angrily, his voice rising slightly.

They were cut short by Reyna, who had been listening.

"Perseus, is this true?" She asked, cold.

"N-no." Percy replied, grabbing onto the table so hard his knuckled turned white. "I have not."

"Perseus, this needs to end. Now."

Once more, they were interrupted. Jason, having taken notice of Percy's arrival, stood. He clapped his hands, the sound ringing through the hall like booming thunder.

"May I have your attention please!" He called, a broad smile on his lips. He, like all other members of the seven, had been elected as senator. But no other member of the Seven had managed to match his public charm and charisma.

Percy instinctively reached to grasp the wine glass next to his platter.

"As you all know, this feast is to celebrate what my friends and I accomplished one year ago today. And despite what this may outwardly imply, Gaea's defeat was not our accomplishment alone. It was all of ours. Us Greeks and Romans, fighting together!" He said, reigning in a great cheer from the crowd as he pointedly ignored the sizable amount of warfare that had occurred between the two campuses.

"But as none of us are quite immortal, we'd never have quite enough time to listen to each and every one of your names and merits, let's just stick to us lucky Seven, shall we?" He smiled once more and took a seat. As he did so, Reyna stood.

"Hail Jason Grace, son of Jupiter and former praetor, as well as a formidable warrior!" She shouted. The crowd cheered loudly in return.

"Hail Leo Valdez, son of Hephaestus, the remarkable engineer!" Once more they cheered.

She continued, in no particular order, going through Hazel, Frank, Annabeth, Piper, and then finally Percy.

"Hail Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon, also a formidable fighter!" She roared. The crowd replied in suit, although Percy felt a rather small delay in the cheering. And then he heard it. A simple joke. An insult.

"Not to mention an abhorrent alcoholic, am I right?" He heard, the jape mingling with the cheers of the crowd. Had his reputation fallen _that_ far? The wine glass, tightly grasped in his hand, slammed into the table. It shattered, a spray of glass and dark red liquid going everywhere. He stood, knocking the chair he had sat in back.

Reyna gave him a threatening stare, the message in it clear. _Sit back down and laugh it off. Now._

Shame bloomed within Percy as he failed to meet her gaze. Percy turned for the exit, the silence suffocating. The great oak door slammed shut behind him.

 **Author's Note: Well, this is a rather roughly written beginning, but it will do. I hope you all will stick around!**


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

 _I made these instructions as clear as I could._

Chiron watched quietly from the porch of the Big House as a small group of individuals crested Peleus' hill. The dragon, now quite large, snored loudly. As the group neared him, the dragon's unwrapped itself from the trunk of the tree to look at them with pale yellow eyes.

Chiron placed a hand on the fence encircling the porch and studied the group. He paused slightly on the Roman praetor Reyna, having never spoken to her except in tight-lipped, formal meetings. Then there was the roman portion of the Seven, with Frank (Another Praetor he had rarely spoken to), Hazel and Jason. And finally, he saw Annabeth, Piper, Leo and-

"Where's Percy?" He asked the moment the group was within talking range, his voice displaying thinly-veiled confusion. The group shared glances with each other, thinking over their responses.

All but Annabeth, who spoke without hesitation. "We decided it was for the best that he didn't come…" She answered, shifting her gaze to look at the rest of the lively campgrounds.

"And why is that?" said Chiron, looking at the mixed faces of the other six.

This time Reyna spoke. "He is… Unstable, currently. With the recent instability between our camps, we decided his presence would only serve to widen the current divide they have."

Chiron did not reply for a few seconds as he thought this over. Noticing the rather pained expressions of the group, he chose to change the subject.

"Shall we begin preparations for the feast?"

* * *

Octavian enjoyed a simple life. Wake up in the morning, eat a small meal for breakfast (Usually stew of some kind), go back to bed, wake up once more for a larger portion of his breakfast meal as lunch, then return to bed before waking up to get his final meal of the day before going to bed for the night and restarting the schedule. Hell, he never even had to leave his house!

Well, he probably _should_ mention that his 'bed' was a threadbare sheet made of rough cotton. And _maybe_ he should also mention that his 'house' was a cold, damp, stone jail cell. But beggars can't be choosers, right?

Octavian yawned, sitting up just in time to watch the little doggy door in the cell entrance slide open and a bowl of yellow muck slide through. Octavian happily crawled over to the bowl, and spoke.

"What's today's dish, Percy?" He asked, picking up the bowl with one hand and grabbing the spoon with the other. It required a bit of effort to pull the spoon from the thick substance, but he wasn't complaining.

Caleb, in response, kicked the door. The door rattled, making quite the ruckus. "Shut it, scum." A muffled female voice responded.

So, their name probably wasn't Percy. Not like it mattered. He didn't care for the jailor's actual identity; the position was shifted around on a consistent basis. A few times he had heard voices he sort of recognized.

"If I'm scum, what does that make you?" Octavian asked, trying and failing to scoop out some of the yellow substance. "Frankly, the one assigned to feeding and guarding the scum sounds a lot worse than the scum itself. Like some sort of reverse janitor."

The jailor didn't respond. Octavian tossed the spoon aside and opted to loudly slurp the stuff straight out of the bowl. The spoon clattered to the ground, splattering the disgusting filth everywhere.

Octavian finished minute later, and placed the bowl next to the flap in the door. "I'm done!" Octavian sang, grabbing the spoon he had tossed aside earlier.

The flap opened, and a hand reached out to grab the bowl. As they did so, Octavian slapped their wrist with the spoon. The hand recoiled, the flap shut behind it.

Octavian immaturely burst out laughing. "Gods, now you're getting beaten by the scum! Must be hard being so pathetic!" He got out between chortles. He heard the sound of the door's latch coming undone before the door swung open.

He observed the silhouetted figure clutching a club with an amused gaze.

"Need to assert your dominance over some scum?"

 **Author's Note: Well, a shorter chapter this time. I tried to fit in a few of the segments of the next chapter but they didn't really feel right tacked on to the end. Next chapter is going to follow some of the characters I feel like I've ignored too much already, namely the rest of the seven. Can't say when I'll have more Percy.**


End file.
